1ST PLACE Epitaph to Innocence by Jane Elizabeth Drew
The night is crying softly at my window As before it stands a girl that once was me. Her deep, dark eyes gaze at me from the shadows At reflections of the woman she will be. And how I fear this shadow-child, this spectre, Though well I know our essence is the same. I am sure this girl is dead, for I replaced her. I buried her, to mummify her blame.